


Piste

by Ilthit



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Aromantic, Break Up, F/F, Ficlet, Pregnancy, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 05:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19739722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit
Summary: For stillsyns@tumblr prompt "Aro!Ensi/OFC, what's love got to do with it?" (Title is in Finnish, story in English, songfics are a valid form of art.)





	Piste

“So, you’re pregnant.” Ensi noted the accusation in Sanna's tone, the way her teeth locked into the dried piece of meat. She tore off a bit, staring Ensi down. It was still kind of sexy, that anger her colleague could coil up, like an unsprung trap.

Ensi took a seat opposite her at the table. “Hello, Sanna. You got here early.”

The quarantine island usually filled up over a couple of days as the harvest drew close. Sanna and her brother—both of them scrappy tall creatures with wild hair and piercing eyes, from one of the western islands—had finished their rounds first, and it was their last night’s fishing haul that was smoking outside. Its scrumptious smell was what had tempted Ensi’s crew outside and left the two women alone in the main room.

“Who’s the lucky guy? Was it that trapper? How long’s that been going on?”

“You are jealous.” Ensi didn’t fight the faint smile that ghosted over her lips. She took a sip of her weak ale. No more of the strong stuff for her for the upcoming months. She rested a hand on her barely showing belly. Her dreams had told her it would be boys, two of them. 

“I’m not jealous,” Sanna spat. “I’m fucking angry. You could’ve told me.”

Ensi clucked her tongue. This was becoming tiresome. “Why, what business was it of yours? Were you going to give me kids? You know we have to do this sooner or later. I’d rather get it over with now. I’ll have them in the spring and be back in action for the summer.”

“You and I--”

“You and I were fucking. That’s all it was. And if you don’t stop being such a bitch, we’re done with that too.”

In retrospect, that probably wasn’t the wisest thing to say at the start of a two-week quarantine.

On day two, Sanna still wasn’t speaking to her. Her anger weighed like chainmail upon Ensi’s dreams. The westerner wasn’t quite a mage, but there were pockets of magic in her all the same, and her dreams almost, but never quite, weaved themselves with Ensi's.  
On day three, they had another row. 

On day four, Sanna found a bottle of vodka and threw up all over the stones at the edge of the water. Stupid to get drunk on such a small island. Stupid to get drunk at all, when seal-beasts and lake-trolls could always breach these waters despite all their spikes and precautions.

On day four, Ensi was called to give her magical aid to put Sanna together again after that escapade. “You’re an idiot,” she told her as she tied the string around Sanna’s finger. A hiss and a moan were her only thanks.

On day six, Ensi had her hands in Sanna's hair, tugging the tangles it got into at the first touch of wind. Just like last year, Sanna's touch was sharp and rough and hit the spot exactly. A chair wedged under the door kept the boys away, if not unaware.

On day eight, Sanna said, “You never loved me, did you?” and Ensi didn’t know what to say that wouldn't start another fight, so she said nothing. 

On the last day, as her oar splashed into the water, all Ensi could feel was relief. She'd rather be back in the woods alone, somewhere where the dead were quiet and the air full of birdsong and the wind, but her home village was better than here. 

Next time, she'd be sure to sleep with someone more practical, if she bothered at all.


End file.
